Oh, It’s Tuesday: How Do You Spin Biracial?

Apple Brown Betty. Caption and Photo by Brian Viehland

Now here’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: How exactly am I going to spin being biracial to Betty?

It’s interesting, because I grew up in the wake of the Black Pride movement, and even as formerly Afroed boomers were rushing to get perms and trading in their dashikis for business suits, they were encouraging my generation to hold our heads up high, and to take pride in where we come from, and you know, say it loud.

So yes, I’m black and I’m proud. And CH, he’s … well he’s white. And Betty she’s biracial.

Now, I’m not talking about picking one or the other. After talking with all of you about this a few months ago, I’ve decided to encourage Betty to embrace being both black and white, even if others are too small-minded to do so. It’ll be good practice for life, because people are always trying to tell You who You are, and what You are and are not capable of, and how You should be. But of course only you can do You, and really you’re the You expert, so you’ve got the last word on all about You.

But I am wondering how one goes about spinning being biracial. I grew up feeling I was special, born of a storied people, who had overcome much. But how to instill both black pride and white pride? One is referenced often in a joyful way, and the other is the stuff of skinheads and racists.

The simple answer to the question of Betty is that she is a testament to our love and an awesome example of two races coming together. But does this make her special? Should I tell her she is special for being biracial as I was told I was special for being black? I’m not sure I even believe in “special” like I used to. It’s a highly American concept, and not even true in most cases. There is only one me, yes, but there is only one everyone. We can’t all be special.

Or can we? Maybe it is like the concept of being both equally black and white. I think everyone might be special in their own way. Maybe I can convince Betty of that, too.

And this brings me to another question I’ve been chewing on. How do we teach Betty to embrace being different? Humans are such funny puzzles, because we often want to stand out, but then we also want to be just like everybody else. When I was a child, I HATED being dark-skinned. I lamented my fate and wondered why I couldn’t be medium-toned. I really, really, really wanted to be like everyone else, and I definitely didn’t want to stand out, because standing out meant that other kids would make fun of me.

It wasn’t until I got into my advanced teens that I started loving the things that made me different, but I still carry scars from my childhood. I don’t want Betty to have scars.

Then again, I now appreciate my beauty more than most people because of those scars. It is a powerful thing to be told you’re ugly over and over again and then to decide that you’re not and then to manifest that to the world. I want Betty to know that kind of power. I want her to know that as long as you do no harm, being different is ALWAYS a good thing.

But of course I worry about her. How about if she can’t stand up to her naysayers? How about if she believes everyone when they tell her who she is, even though she already knows? How about if she decides to resent being different for the rest of her life?

If you’re one of my IRL friends, you’ve probably heard me say, “You owe it to the world to aggressively be yourself.” But dude, I know that’s the hardest thing many of us will probably ever do. And I also know that quite a few people go to their graves without an authentic adult moment to call their own.

So I guess my question is how do you teach your biracial child that she is special — just like everyone else, both black and white — though so many people will try to tell her otherwise, and that she should appreciate the cruel things that people will inevitably say to her because she’s different — as it will make her love herself even more in the long run?

It’s a conundrum, right? Thoughts very much appreciated.